


We're Alright

by writing-in-my-spare-time (ironthesun)



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Barista Peter Parker, Dubious Science, Gen, Gun Violence, Hurt Tony Stark, I'm Bad At Tagging, Irondad Secret Santa 2019, Not Beta Read, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, Robbery, Some Swearing, but could also be read as platonic - Freeform, hinted Tony Stark/Bruce Banner
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-26
Updated: 2019-12-26
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:33:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,635
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21909760
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ironthesun/pseuds/writing-in-my-spare-time
Summary: When billionaire Tony Stark comes into the cafe late one night to get his caffeine hit, he finds barista Peter busy doing homework. The homework is quite advanced and right up Tony's alley, and the two hit it of immediately over their shared love of science. But when a masked gunman interrupts their bonding session, Tony knows he'll do anything to make sure Peter is alright.Prompt: Modern Day/No Powers AU
Relationships: Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 24
Kudos: 285
Collections: Iron Dad Secret Santa 2019





	We're Alright

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MCUsic_to_my_ears](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MCUsic_to_my_ears/gifts).



> This story is a gift for **MCUsic_to_my_ears** as part of the **Irondad Secret Santa Gift Exchange**! The prompt for this fanfiction was: Modern Day/No Powers AU.
> 
> Let me just say here at the beginning that this is the first fanfiction I've written and completed in years! And I know I'm a bit rusty (understatement), but I think it turned out okay!
> 
> Also note, I'm not a science person, neither am I a coffee drinker so... prepare for a bit of flaky science and coffee talk. I did my best to make it all sound reasonable but well... it is what it is. Haha.
> 
> Anyway, a very Merry Christmas to **MCUsic_to_my_ears**!!! All the best for the new year, and please enjoy this story.

The late shift on a Monday night was always a quiet one. So quiet in fact, that only one staff member was ever needed to cover the shift and close at the end. For Peter, the Monday shift was his shift – because no one else wanted it. He didn’t mind so much. With May working so often to make ends meet, the flat was usually empty during the evenings and Peter got lonely when he was left on his own like that. At least when he was working at the café, he could keep himself better occupied.

One of the great things about working on his own was that Peter could play his own music. A busy Monday night shift had one, maybe two, customers come into the café to make a quick order and leave soon after. Because of this, Peter never saw any harm in playing some of his favourite songs – songs that weren't mainstream enough to be played in the café. So as Peter sat at the table nearest the front counter, back to the front door but ready to jump into action should any late-night customers arrive looking for their next caffeine fix, he gently bobbed his head in time with Cavetown’s _Things that Make it Warm_ , and slowly worked through a journal article on clean energy that he’d be referencing in an upcoming essay. 

Peter let the melodic strumming of the guitar relax him into a steady rhythm of reading and highlighting, and occasional note-taking. It didn’t take long for Peter to get lost in his reading, exploring the ways in which energy stored in the atomic bonds of nitrogen could one day be used as a source of clean energy. With his back to the door and his head lost in its own world, it came as a sudden surprise when the door swung open and the bell above it jingled. Peter jumped at the interruption, ungracefully knocking his papers and pens off the table and all over the floor. “Oh crap,” Peter mumbled as he quickly bent to scoop-up all his belongings. “I’ll be right with you!”

When he finally had everything, all picked up and safely back on the table, he looked up to the awaiting customer with a big smile on his face and an apology on his tongue. But before he could say anything, he froze at the sight before him. 

It was Tony Stark. Billionaire and owner of Stark Industries, arguably the largest tech corporation in the world, Tony Stark. He was looking at Tony Stark. And Tony Stark was looking at him.

“You alright there, kid?” The man asked, head cocked to the side in question. Despite the late hour, Tony Stark was wearing a pair of orange sunglasses and a three-piece navy suit. 

Peter’s eyes widened when he realised he was staring. “Um, yes. Yes, sorry. I’m good, I mean alright. I’m alright.” Peter smiled awkwardly and then quickly retreated behind the front counter. He cleared his throat, and stood up straight, “Hey- um. Hello. Welcome to Vigilant Tea and C-coffee. What um, what can I get for you, sir?” Peter knew he looked like a deer caught in headlights, but there was really nothing he could do about it as he continued to stare wide-eyed at Tony Stark. The Tony Stark.

With his sunglasses remaining firmly planted on his face, Tony flashed Peter a Cheshire cat smile and walked up to the counter. “I’m after something sweet. What can you offer me?”

“Have you tried um, have you tried Ethiopia Duromina? It’s naturally sweet and fruity; notes of um, of grape and mango, and um, pomegranate and grapefruit. It’s really nic-”

“Sold. Make me a large to go will ya kid, thanks.” Tony said, before turning around to sit and wait in the chair closest to the counter. It just happened to be the chair Peter had been sitting in before Tony Stark walked into the café.

Not wanting to keep the man waiting, Peter moved quickly over to the coffee machine and began making Tony’s order. While Peter was distracted with that, Tony took a moment to look at the papers covering the table he was sitting at. Picking up a random paper from the pile, Tony read the title with raised eyebrows, _Nanosecond-pulsed spark discharged in liquid nitrogen: synthesis of polynitrogen from NaN3_. He glanced at the kid behind the counter, “Some heavy reading here, kid.” 

“Pardon?” Peter turned his head to look at Tony, then to the paper in Tony’s hand. “Oh, yeah. I uh, I have an essay coming up for one of my classes. It’s supposed to be on clean energy. Most kids in my class are looking at things like wind power and solar energy. I wanted to do something different, and you know polymeric nitrogen has some really great potential.”

Tony nodded along as the kid spoke, “I mean yeah, polynitrogen could be a great energy source – if it could be successfully generated and maintained in a stable form. That’s not been done yet, has it?”

Peter smiled in response, “It has actually, quite recently if that article’s anything to go by. The guys who wrote it say they’ve done it using plasma.”

“Plasma?”

“Liquid plasma,” Peter clarifies, “A jet of liquid plasma that they used to, like, zap this compound called sodium azide. It’s really cool. Obviously this is the first study of many, and we won’t really know how effective it is until this study is replicated, but...” Peter paused as he brought Tony’s drink over to him, took a seat next to the man and looked at the paper still in his hands, “it’s a really energy-dense material, you know? Think about what a fuel source like that could mean for society. A clean fuel source. So many possibilities!”

In what felt like no time at all, two hours had passed by while Peter and Tony discussed clean energy options. Tony was pleasantly surprised by Peter. The boy was smart. Really smart. The sort of smart that was going to take the kid places if given the right opportunities. And there was something about him - something that reminded Tony of himself. When Tony finally noticed the time, he thanked Peter for the drink and left soon after; though not before noting that he’d be returning soon for another hit of that same drink. It had been very good. 

When Peter locked up and returned home that night, his smile never left his face.

***

Tony returned the following week, same day and same time, to find Peter once again hunched over a stack of papers as he slowly read and made notes. A soft song played in the background, and once again, when the bell above the door jingled, Peter jumped out of his chair and knocked his papers to the floor. Chuckling, Tony went over to help Peter pick up his things.

“Another Ethiopia Duromina, sir?” Peter asked politely when the papers were finally stacked back on the table.

“Please,” Tony said, taking off pair of blue sunglasses. “Also, can we not with the ‘sir’? Makes me feel old. Tony’s fine.”

“Oh, sorry, sir. Um, sorry... T-t-tony.”

“Okay, kid. Settle down. Please. It’s just a name,” Tony chuckled once more. He squinted at Peter’s name-tag. “You’re Peter? Probably should’ve asked that last week.”

“Yes. I’m Peter. Peter Parker.”

“Alright then Peter, Peter Parker. Get me caffeinated.”

***

Six months on and it was now routine for Tony to visit once a week for Peter’s Monday night shift. The kid was so smart; it didn’t take the genius that Tony was to see it. Smarts like that needed nurturing, encouraging. Peter’s potential was unbounded, and Tony felt a need to ensure it grew and flourished. Maybe it was a subconscious need to give back, having himself been lucky enough to have people in his life who nurtured his own intelligence.

There was Jarvis, of course, who seemed to love Tony as if he were his own child. His mum was also a great influence, though not particularly smart in the way Tony was, she only ever wanted the world for Tony. Then there was Mrs Roberta from his 7th grade science class (the teacher’s aid, not the teacher), who would bring Tony more challenging work when it became clear his regular classroom teacher didn’t want to make the effort. Even his father had recognised Tony's abilities from the get go and had done everything in his power to foster it - everything but the emotional support, but that's another matter. So maybe Tony wanted to give back; to make sure this boy had the right support to one day have the world in the way Tony did. It definitely didn’t have anything to do with the sudden paternal feelings Tony may or may not have had for the boy. And Tony definitely didn't feel his insides warm whenever he taught Peter something new during their Monday night meetings and he got to see the boy's face light up as he drank the information in. 

What began with Tony and Peter talking strictly science, somehow morphed into talking about anything and everything under the sun. Tony now knew that Peter lived with his Aunt May, and together the two were only just making ends meet. He knew that Peter used to be in band and academic decathlon a school, but dropped both extracurriculars in favour of the job in the café to help May with bills. If Tony increased the size of his tips after finding out this information, he wasn’t going to mention it. But it had certainly been a nice moment three months in, to find Peter wearing a new pair of converse sneakers. His old ones had been falling apart quite dramatically. These new ones were a flashy set painted in a nice striped pattern of blue, pink, and white.

Tonight, Peter and Tony had been huddled together at their usual table next to the front counter, their backs to the door. The two of them were busy writing code for the robot Peter was trying to build in his robotics class. Coding really wasn’t Peter’s strong suit, but with Tony’s help things were coming along rather well. When the bell on the door jingled, Peter pushed himself up to standing and turned toward the door with a smile, ready to greet the new customer. But his smile fell immediately, and his eyes widened as he felt himself freeze all over with terror. Standing at the front of the café was a man in all black, a bandanna covering the lower half of his face, and a gun in his hand pointed at Peter.

“M-mr. Sta-um Tony?” Peter whispered hesitantly, eyes not leaving the newcomer for even a second. Tony glanced up at Peter, then turned his face toward the front door to look at whatever had captured Peter’s attention. His heart dropped at the sight of the gunman, but his action was instant and unhesitant as he stood to place himself between the man and Peter.

“Let me see your hands!” The man yelled. The hand holding the gun shook very slightly; he seemed nervous. When Peter and Tony didn’t make to move right away, the man yelled again and took a step toward them, “Your fucking hands now!”

Peter and Tony complied, hands shooting up high. “Okay,” Tony began, “our hands are up. There’s no need for the gun, no one’s going to try anything. You can take whatever you want.” Tony voice was calm, but his heart was racing a mile a minute. After six months knowing Peter, he cared deeply about the boy. And with the gun now firmly on Tony, not on Peter, he was determined to do everything in his power to keep it that way; to keep the boy safe.

“I want your wallets. And your watches. And you,” he thrust the gun at Peter once more, “you work here, right kid? I want the money from the cash register. All of it. In a bag. Move it!”

Peter, shaking like a leaf, let out a slight whimper at the order. He looked at Tony, who nodded slowly, “It’s okay, kid. Do as the man says.”

Tony's comment had the gunman aiming the gun back on Tony. "It's okay, dude. I'm just making sure you get what you want."

Peter walked behind the counter, over to the till, and began filling a paper bag with all the money that was there. Meanwhile, Tony was taking his wallet out of his pocked and throwing it at the man’s feet. The gunman quickly bent and picked it up, shoving it into his back pocket. “Watch, too.” 

Tony started taking his watch off as Peter walked back around the front counter, bag full of money in hand. However, once he was around the counter, in his nervous state all he wanted was to be closer to Tony and so he picked up his pace. The sudden movement took the gunman by surprise and he shifted his aim back to Peter. Realising what was about to happen, Tony moved as fast as he could, flinging himself around Peter as three loud shots rang out through the café.

“Fuck!” The gunman yelled, before making a quick retreat out the door; Tony's wallet his only prize for his night's efforts. 

For a moment, there was no more movement from inside the café. The only sound was the sweet and soft vocals of _Nothing Without You_ from the Theory of Relativity musical as it played through the café speakers. “Mr Stark?” Peter asked, his voice muffled against Tony’s chest who was still wrapped tightly around Peter and had yet to move away. “T-tony?” Peter asked again. 

The response Peter received was frightening. Tony gasped out loudly, as if he’d been holding his breath but could hold it no longer, and he awkwardly fell to the floor as he finally let Peter go. Peter was quick to move down with him and stop Tony from hitting the ground too hard. When his hand touched Tony’s back however, he was horror struck to find something warm and wet soaking through Tony’s clothes.

“Oh, my god. M-mr Stark! Tony! What do I- what do I do? Tony!” Peter tried his best to be gentle as he moved Tony onto his side to look at the man’s back. There were three distinct holes in Tony’s Led Zeppelin t-shirt. He tried not to cry at the amount of blood already pooling on the floor, covering Tony’s back and Peter’s hands. “Tony, please- please talk to me!?”

Peter helped Tony lay flat on his back, and Tony gasped a few more times before finally speaking up. The man’s voice was strained with pain, but it was clear he was trying to stay as calm as possible. “Kid, I need… I need you to call an… an ambulance, can you do that?”

Peter was reluctant to leave Tony alone, but knew Tony needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible. “O-okay. I’ll be right back. Right back.”

Peter was vaguely aware of Tony’s muttered, “Good boy,” as he all but ran to the table he and Tony had been working at barely 30 minutes ago. He grabbed his phone and dialled 911 as he rushed back to Tony. Just as the operator answered the phone, Tony’s head lolled dramatically to the side and his eyes fluttered closed.

***

When Tony finally came back to consciousness, it was to the distinct smell of antiseptic and the annoying sound of something beeping monotonously at the side of his head. With some considerable effort, he managed to open his eyes only to find himself alone and surrounded by the tell-tale white walls of a hospital room. It was a rather large room, his bed the only one there so clearly a private one. There was an empty chair to his right, and an open book resting on the seat.

Tony tried to sit up in the bed but felt sharp pain shoot through his back that stopped him from moving too far. He let out a loud groan and fell backward, doing his best to breathe through the pain. Just as the pain became tolerable, the door to the room opened and a familiar face appeared.

“Bruce?”

Bruce’s head snapped to Tony, clearly not expecting the man to be awake yet but lips spreading into a wide smile as he rushed back to the empty chair. “God, Tony. You have no idea how good it is to see you awake. I was so worried.” Bruce took Tony’s hand gently and squeezed a few times to emphasise his words. 

Tony made to respond but when he tried to speak this time, his voice caught in his throat and he rasped out few rough coughs.

Bruce quickly got up, “I’ll be back in just a second, Tony. I’m going to get you some water and tell one of the nurses you’re up.” He left the room and returned moments later with a cup of water in hand and a nurse not far behind him. He helped Tony take a few sips, not missing the way the man winced as he moved, whilst the nurse busied herself with assessing his vitals. When Tony was done drinking, the nurse turned to him.

“Hello, Mr Stark. My name’s Jamie,” they spoke softly. “Can you tell me if you’re feeling any pain at the moment?”

Tony nodded slightly, “A little bit,” he replied.

“Could you give it a rating out of 10; 10 being the highest?”

“Maybe a four-“ Tony began, but cut himself off when he caught Bruce’s glare. He stared down at his hands as he sighed out, “Maybe a seven. Seven or eight.”

The nurse nodded and pulled a small vial from her pocket, “I’m just going to give you another dose of morphine. It shouldn’t take too long to kick in. Please let someone know the moment it begins to hurt again.” When the nurse was done, they left the room and Tony turned toward Bruce.

“I think I need you to fill me in a bit Brucie,” Tony said.

“What, you mean you don’t remember?”

“It’s a bit fuzzy,” Tony admitted.

Bruce sat back in the seat, hands holding Tony’s firmly. “Well, no point beating around the bush, I suppose. You were shot. Three times.”

Tony took a moment to consider that information before it all clicked in his mind and he tried to sit up once again in panic, “Peter!”

“Woah, Tony. Stop!” Bruce tried to hold Tony down in hopes the man wouldn’t hurt himself by trying to get out of bed. “Tony, listen to me!”

For a moment, Tony stopped struggling and stared Bruce down. “The kid, Bruce. There was a kid with me. Peter. Peter Parker! Was he- Is he- Bruce, is he okay?”

“There’s a boy out in the waiting area, sitting with an older woman. They were here when I arrived. He’s got blood on his hands, but he’s okay. Brown hair, brown eyes, wearing a barista’s apron?”

“Yes! Yes, Bruce. That’s him. I need to see him.” Bruce would never lie to him, so if he said the kid was fine, then he was fine. But Tony needed to see it with his own eyes; needed Peter safe and sound right in front of him.

Bruce nodded slowly, clearly confused. “Okay,” he said, “I’ll just go get him.”

When Bruce returned, it was with Peter hesitantly trailing behind him. And when Peter’s eyes met Tony’s, the tears were instant. “You’re okay!” He rushed to the side of the bed, hands moving as if he were going for a hug but then thought better of it. “I thought- There was so much blood and I though you might- And it would’ve been my fault because you jumped in front and-”

“Kid, for the love of god, come here.” Tony held his arms open wide, and the moment Peter was in them, everything felt right. The kid was safe. “It’s not your fault, you hear me. Not your fault. And I’m alright. Really. We’re alright.” He rubbed Peter’s back as the boy let out heavy sobs into the crook of Tony’s neck. Tony pushed Peter back, “Look at me, Peter.” He waited patiently for Peter to finally sit up and look at him. When he did, Tony wiped the tears from his cheeks with a gentle touch. “It is not. Your. Fault. Repeat that for me.”

“It’s not my fault,” Peter said quietly.

“Good.” Tony pulled Peter back in for another hug. “I am so glad you’re okay.”

Bruce excused himself from the room to give them some privacy. He didn’t really understand what was going on, but understood enough to know that whatever the boy was to Tony, it was something special.

It was a few more moments until Peter and Tony finally separated again. “Alright, kid. Now the important question. It’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you for a while, but well I’m chronically bad at putting things off, so I might as well do it now while I’m thinking about it.”

Peter cocked his head to the side in question, curious as to what Tony was going to ask him.

“How would you feel about interning for me at Stark Industries?”

Of all the things Tony could have asked, that was the last thing on his mind and the absurdity of the question given that Tony was laying in a hospital bed with three bullet holes in him made Peter laugh out loud. When he settled himself enough, he looked at Tony and smiled, “That would be great, Tony. I’d really like that.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for making it to the end! I do hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it!! xx
> 
> Feedback is always welcome, especially now as I hopefully grow and improve following this beginning.
> 
> Once again, a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year to all!! xx
> 
> Rebecca xx


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